CHAPTER V--A FIVE-FRANC PIECE FALLS ON THE GROUND AND PRODUCES A TUMULT

  Near Saint-Médard's church there was a poor man who was in the habit ofcrouching on the brink of a public well which had been condemned, andon whom Jean Valjean was fond of bestowing charity. He never passed thisman without giving him a few sous. Sometimes he spoke to him. Those whoenvied this mendicant said that he belonged to the police. He was anex-beadle of seventy-five, who was constantly mumbling his prayers.

  One evening, as Jean Valjean was passing by, when he had not Cosettewith him, he saw the beggar in his usual place, beneath the lanternwhich had just been lighted. The man seemed engaged in prayer, accordingto his custom, and was much bent over. Jean Valjean stepped up to himand placed his customary alms in his hand. The mendicant raised hiseyes suddenly, stared intently at Jean Valjean, then dropped his headquickly. This movement was like a flash of lightning. Jean Valjean wasseized with a shudder. It seemed to him that he had just caught sight,by the light of the street lantern, not of the placid and beamingvisage of the old beadle, but of a well-known and startling face. Heexperienced the same impression that one would have on finding one'sself, all of a sudden, face to face, in the dark, with a tiger. Herecoiled, terrified, petrified, daring neither to breathe, to speak,to remain, nor to flee, staring at the beggar who had dropped his head,which was enveloped in a rag, and no longer appeared to know that hewas there. At this strange moment, an instinct--possibly the mysteriousinstinct of self-preservation,--restrained Jean Valjean from uttering aword. The beggar had the same figure, the same rags, the same appearanceas he had every day. "Bah!" said Jean Valjean, "I am mad! I am dreaming!Impossible!" And he returned profoundly troubled.

  He hardly dared to confess, even to himself, that the face which hethought he had seen was the face of Javert.

  That night, on thinking the matter over, he regretted not havingquestioned the man, in order to force him to raise his head a secondtime.

  On the following day, at nightfall, he went back. The beggar was at hispost. "Good day, my good man," said Jean Valjean, resolutely, handinghim a sou. The beggar raised his head, and replied in a whining voice,"Thanks, my good sir." It was unmistakably the ex-beadle.

  Jean Valjean felt completely reassured. He began to laugh. "How thedeuce could I have thought that I saw Javert there?" he thought. "Am Igoing to lose my eyesight now?" And he thought no more about it.

  A few days afterwards,--it might have been at eight o'clock in theevening,--he was in his room, and engaged in making Cosette spell aloud,when he heard the house door open and then shut again. This struck himas singular. The old woman, who was the only inhabitant of the houseexcept himself, always went to bed at nightfall, so that she might notburn out her candles. Jean Valjean made a sign to Cosette to be quiet.He heard some one ascending the stairs. It might possibly be the oldwoman, who might have fallen ill and have been out to the apothecary's.Jean Valjean listened.

  The step was heavy, and sounded like that of a man; but the old womanwore stout shoes, and there is nothing which so strongly resembles thestep of a man as that of an old woman. Nevertheless, Jean Valjean blewout his candle.

  He had sent Cosette to bed, saying to her in a low voice, "Get into bedvery softly"; and as he kissed her brow, the steps paused.

  Jean Valjean remained silent, motionless, with his back towards thedoor, seated on the chair from which he had not stirred, and holding hisbreath in the dark.

  After the expiration of a rather long interval, he turned round, as heheard nothing more, and, as he raised his eyes towards the door of hischamber, he saw a light through the keyhole. This light formed a sortof sinister star in the blackness of the door and the wall. There wasevidently some one there, who was holding a candle in his hand andlistening.

  Several minutes elapsed thus, and the light retreated. But he heard nosound of footsteps, which seemed to indicate that the person who hadbeen listening at the door had removed his shoes.

  Jean Valjean threw himself, all dressed as he was, on his bed, and couldnot close his eyes all night.

  At daybreak, just as he was falling into a doze through fatigue, he wasawakened by the creaking of a door which opened on some attic at theend of the corridor, then he heard the same masculine footstep which hadascended the stairs on the preceding evening. The step was approaching.He sprang off the bed and applied his eye to the keyhole, which wastolerably large, hoping to see the person who had made his way by nightinto the house and had listened at his door, as he passed. It was aman, in fact, who passed, this time without pausing, in front of JeanValjean's chamber. The corridor was too dark to allow of the person'sface being distinguished; but when the man reached the staircase, aray of light from without made it stand out like a silhouette, and JeanValjean had a complete view of his back. The man was of lofty stature,clad in a long frock-coat, with a cudgel under his arm. The formidableneck and shoulders belonged to Javert.

  Jean Valjean might have attempted to catch another glimpse of himthrough his window opening on the boulevard, but he would have beenobliged to open the window: he dared not.

  It was evident that this man had entered with a key, and like himself.Who had given him that key? What was the meaning of this?

  When the old woman came to do the work, at seven o'clock in the morning,Jean Valjean cast a penetrating glance on her, but he did not questionher. The good woman appeared as usual.

  As she swept up she remarked to him:--

  "Possibly Monsieur may have heard some one come in last night?"

  At that age, and on that boulevard, eight o'clock in the evening was thedead of the night.

  "That is true, by the way," he replied, in the most natural tonepossible. "Who was it?"

  "It was a new lodger who has come into the house," said the old woman.

  "And what is his name?"

  "I don't know exactly; Dumont, or Daumont, or some name of that sort."

  "And who is this Monsieur Dumont?"

  The old woman gazed at him with her little polecat eyes, and answered:--

  "A gentleman of property, like yourself."

  Perhaps she had no ulterior meaning. Jean Valjean thought he perceivedone.

  When the old woman had taken her departure, he did up a hundred francswhich he had in a cupboard, into a roll, and put it in his pocket. Inspite of all the precautions which he took in this operation so that hemight not be heard rattling silver, a hundred-sou piece escaped from hishands and rolled noisily on the floor.

  When darkness came on, he descended and carefully scrutinized both sidesof the boulevard. He saw no one. The boulevard appeared to be absolutelydeserted. It is true that a person can conceal himself behind trees.

  He went upstairs again.

  "Come." he said to Cosette.

  He took her by the hand, and they both went out.

  BOOK FIFTH.--FOR A BLACK HUNT, A MUTE PACK